The Infinite Showman

The void stretched infinitely, an endless expanse of stars and energy swirling around Luxor. He reclined in mid-air as though on a throne of unseen power, his golden eyes reflecting the cosmos' grandeur. Having orchestrated and dismantled the Fate world's trials, Luxor was now faced with a fleeting moment of stillness—one he found increasingly rare.

With a casual flick of his finger, galaxies formed and dissolved, their fleeting beauty little more than a passing thought.

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"Hmm... enough of grand stages for now. Let's try something different." Luxor mused, his voice low, rich, and dripping with indulgent amusement. He rested his chin on his palm, his celestial hair flowing as if caressed by an unseen breeze. "Let me grace a corner of my memories... a fragment of forgotten fiction."

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As the words left his lips, space itself seemed to tremble, bending to his whim. A nostalgic grin crept across Luxor's face as a ripple in reality formed before him—a gateway of unimaginable beauty and chaos.

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"Record of Ragnarok."

The name echoed in his mind, an anime he'd once devoured during his mortal days on Earth. A stage where gods and humans clashed in battles of legendary proportions. Luxor chuckled softly to himself.

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"A world of divine egos and desperate mortals. How quaint."

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With a wave of his hand, Luxor stepped forward, his body dissolving into starlight. He allowed the radiant glow of his presence to dim, shrouding himself in obscurity. His divine aura, a force that could have obliterated entire realms with a sigh, was veiled to the point of near invisibility.

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"Let them see me as no more than a shadow, an enigma. Let me watch... let me play." Luxor's smile deepened as he felt the universe shift around him.

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For the first time in eons, the Sovereign of Existence would walk unnoticed. Or so he intended.

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Arrival in the Arena of Gods

The air in the Record of Ragnarok world crackled with anticipation. The grand coliseum stood tall and proud, its stands filled with gods and mortals alike, their voices rising in a crescendo of excitement. The tension was palpable as Zeus, king of the gods, prepared to declare the next match in the epic contest.

Luxor materialized in the shadows of the arena's outskirts, his figure obscured by a simple cloak. His radiant hair and golden eyes were concealed, and his overwhelming aura was dampened to the point where even the gods would struggle to notice him. He was now just another face in the crowd—or so it seemed.

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"Interesting. So, this is how they entertain themselves. Mortals fighting gods... such fragile arrogance." Luxor's eyes gleamed under his hood as he observed the spectacle.

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From his position, he could feel the tension radiating from the combatants in the arena. The air was thick with divine power and mortal resolve, but compared to Luxor's own might, it was little more than a faint breeze. Still, he found it... amusing.

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A voice nearby caught his attention. "Who's next? I can't wait to see them tear each other apart!" a mortal spectator whispered excitedly.

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Luxor tilted his head, intrigued. He leaned against a nearby pillar, blending into the crowd. His presence, though concealed, still carried an unshakable charisma. Those around him couldn't help but glance his way, feeling inexplicably drawn to him, though they didn't know why.

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"The humans are desperate, the gods are smug. Such theatrics." Luxor thought, a smirk forming under his hood. "But let's see how far this 'Ragnarok' can push their limits. Perhaps... it might even amuse me."

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The Next Battle

The arena roared as Zeus stepped forward, his elderly frame hiding the sheer power he radiated. "Ladies and gentlemen, gods and mortals, prepare for the next match!" his voice boomed, silencing the crowd.

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Luxor's golden eyes flickered beneath his hood. "Show me your champions, Zeus. Let me see if any of them can entertain me."

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The fighters stepped into the arena, their auras clashing like storms. On one side stood a mortal warrior, his face etched with determination and resolve. On the other side, a god, his arrogance as palpable as his divine power.

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Luxor watched silently, his gaze sharp, his interest piqued.

"Let the games begin." Zeus bellowed, and the crowd erupted in cheers.

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A Hidden Hand

As the battle raged, Luxor's eyes never left the combatants. Every move, every strike, every clash of power was analyzed in an instant. But it wasn't their strength that interested him—it was their struggle, their desperation, their drive to surpass their limits.

"Ah, how nostalgic." Luxor murmured to himself. His thoughts drifted back to his mortal days, watching anime and reading stories of underdogs overcoming impossible odds.

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But something shifted. The god's power began to overwhelm the mortal, the arena shaking under the force of his attacks. The mortal staggered, bloodied but unbroken, his resolve keeping him standing.

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Luxor's smile widened beneath his hood. "Not bad... but not enough."

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With a subtle wave of his hand—so imperceptible it seemed like a trick of the light—Luxor altered reality ever so slightly. The mortal's blade, once dull and cracked, now gleamed with a faint, otherworldly glow. The next strike landed true, forcing the god to stumble.

The crowd gasped, unaware of the invisible hand tipping the scales.

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Luxor chuckled softly. "A little nudge. Let's keep things interesting."

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End of Chapter 8